


Your Body’s an Ocean (The Waves Are Closing In On Me)

by 1oveclub



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Fingering, Fluff, Kitchen table sex, M/M, PWP, Porn With (a little) Plot, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Top Liam, by that I mean they take like a hit off a pipe, definitely some fluff in there so, juat read it., oh boy, thays always fun, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 18:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16749247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1oveclub/pseuds/1oveclub
Summary: Liam’s always a little caught off guard by how fucking good Louis makes it. He’s good at everything he does really, but he’s best at this, at driving Liam crazy, at making him feel this good.





	Your Body’s an Ocean (The Waves Are Closing In On Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Side to Side by Tyler Carter. Yes, the one from Issues.

“Needs a little more salt,” Louis critiques from where he’s sat on the counter next to the stove, and pops a sugarcube from the open dish into his mouth. He drops one into the pot of sauce that Liam is stirring as an afterthought, and Liam frowns a little in disapproval.

“You need more salt,” he quips, which is a mistake maybe, because Louis comes right back with, “then give me somethin’ salty, big boy…” all twitchy eyebrows and mischievous little grin.

Liam smiles and shakes his head fondly, he can’t help it. Sometimes Louis is such a child. He dips his finger into the sauce, lifts it to his lips and tastes. It does need more salt, he agrees, so he adds it and flips the burner down to let it simmer while he checks the chicken that’s baking in the oven. He can see, peripherally, Louis dipping the tip of his finger into the pot and sucking it clean, dipping, sucking, dipping. He reaches up to pinch the sensitive skin of a thigh between his own fingers.

“Hey!” Louis squawks, and kicks out in retaliation. Liam chuckles at him, wraps his fingers around Louis’s ankle, and holds it against his own thigh as he sets a lid on top of the pot of sauce. He reaches up to turn the oven temp down, so everything can cook slow and come together.

Louis’s lighting up his pipe again by the time Liam looks over; taking a deep pull of thick smoke, lashes fluttering, and his eyes flit up to meet Liam’s. They’re glassy, lazy, unbelievably blue from smoking off and on all evening. They’re sexy, even more so than usual.

Liam steps closer, between bare knees, and leans in to press his lips to licked damp, cool-feeling ones. He inhales when Louis exhales. It makes him feel dizzy, breathing Louis’s smoke-thick breath in like this. Louis always makes him dizzy. His eyes flutter shut, and their lips part just long enough for Liam to blow smoke out between them. His hand slides up Louis’s calf, into the crease of his knee where his fingers stroke soft like a whisper, and Louis shudders. He plants his other hand next to Louis’s hip against the cold granite and slots their lips together again, but this time he’s chasing the promise of something other than musky smoke.

Louis kisses the complete opposite of how he speaks: his lips move slow, contemplative; his tongue is languid and thorough. He breathes hot out his nose against Liam’s skin and it makes Liam hungry for more. He wants to give more, take more, make Louis gasp for air. The tip of his tongue teases Louis’s, the roof of his sugar-sweet mouth, his chilled lips.

Then, there it is- the hitch in Louis’s breath; the soft click of glass-on-granite as Louis sets the pipe down on the counter top and slides a hand up into the short curls at the nape of Liam’s neck. The opposite hand clenches at the middle of Liam’s back, bunching up the cotton of his t-shirt, chilly air breezing over his hot skin in time with his tongue licking back into Louis’s scorching mouth.

Louis’s legs encircle his hips, locking behind his arse and pulling him close. Liam uses his grip at Louis’s knee for leverage, pulls him to the edge until they’re so close, nothing between them but the thin cotton of Louis’s briefs- tight and dark blue, stretched over days of sunny skin- the material of Liam’s boxers, and the thickness of both their cocks pressed together.

Liam always loves how full Louis feels against him- his thick thighs all soft and warm and so solid under his hands when he grips the sides of Louis’s knees and feels all the way up. Louis groans right into his mouth. It’s hot and insistent and completely unplanned, and that has Liam even hotter, rocking his hips forward into Louis and then-

And then Louis’s hands are at Liam’s chest, pushing him away, and Liam is stumbling back a couple of steps before he’s blinking at Louis, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“What…?” he starts, but Louis is already slipping down off the counter, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, stalking toward Liam and backing him into an empty kitchen chair.

Liam goes easily, falls with a soft, “oof” and wide eyes, staring at Louis, while he looks for some sort of explanation. He doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets Louis in his lap, thighs astride his own, hands on his shoulders and thumbs digging into his collarbones. And that’s. That’s good, too. He holds onto Louis’s hips, kneading the soft skin there, pressing his fingertips into the fleshy, fatty places. They’re his favourite, because Louis’s eyelids droop, his breath catches, and he presses into the touch so easily.

Louis’s fingers curl under the collar of Liam’s t-shirt, stretching the material out enough that the soft pads of them graze over his skin, and he leans back in to kiss Liam again, more urgent.

 

Liam’s fingers slide up, over the crease of Louis’s thighs where they meet his bottom. They trace the hem of his briefs, where they manage to cover one cheek, but have ridden up over the other, and Liam’s cock twitches in interest. It’s such a silly little thing to arouse him, but it does- the way the material stretches over his hot little arse and tucks up over the cheeks. He slips his fingers under the edge and gets his hand full and squeezes, and Louis’s knees give a little bit.

Louis licks into Liam’s mouth, makes an insistent little noise, nails scratching the jut of sharp collarbones. It’s slick and hot, and Liam can’t help the way he instantly sucks Louis’s sharp little tongue back into his mouth and traces his fingers up between his cheeks.

Louis’s hips drop into Liam’s, pressing back into his touch, and Liam uses his grip on Louis’s arse to pull his cheeks apart; tease his finger over Louis’s hole slow enough to feel the little flutter of muscle against the tip of it.

Louis presses his forehead against Liam’s, parts their lips, and breathes out hot against Liam’s mouth.

“C’mon,” he whispers, urgent, goading, back arching dramatically to put the pressure of Liam’s fingertip back against where he needs it.

 

Liam just smirks. “You want it?” he whispers; cheeky, teasing.

Louis groans and reaches a hand back, pressing his palm over the back of Liam’s hand, two of his fingers over one of Liam’s, keeping it there so he can rock against it.

“Yes. Yes,” he breathes, and Liam lets his own breath out in a groan, mouth searching out the pulse in Louis’s neck. He finds it and bites, elicits a raw, desperate, “please” and yeah. Yeah.

“Need to get you wet, Lou,” Liam breathes out, breath hot on Louis’s neck. He rubs the pads of two fingers quick over the tensing muscle again, promising, and then grips Louis’s thighs and stands.

The bedroom’s all the way down the hall. The living room is at least 20 paces. The kitchen table is only just a step away, and it conveniently happens to be where Liam’s left his wallet lay. He likes to come prepared, and he likes to be prepared to make Louis come, so.

Two quick steps and he perches Louis on the edge of the table, caught between his thighs, and hell if that’s not his favourite fucking place on earth.

Their mouths find each other again, as Liam’s hands search blindly for the leather of his wallet on the tabletop. It’s cool to the touch, and he knows exactly where to slip his fingers in- which pockets have the little sachets of lube, which have condoms, which have receipts for both. They’re only really using one lately, though. (“…i’m clean, i know you’re clean, let me feel you…” and who is Liam to say no to that?)

He finds what he needs, discards it next to Louis’s hip, then works on sucking Louis’s tongue back into his mouth. It’s wet, messy, dirty; more tongue than lips, more spit than kiss. He hitches Louis forward like before, arse on the edge of the table, hands under his knees to hold them up, legs apart. He nips Louis’s lip, neck, collarbone, hooks his fingers under the elastic of his briefs and swiftly pulls them off as he sinks to his knees.

Louis watches, his wet mouth open and his eyebrows all curiously quirked up as Liam grips his ankles and pushes his feet up until his heels catch on the edge of the table. He’s spread wide open, all exposed and pretty, tan reaching all the way up until the insides of his thighs, and fuck. The skin there gradually turns from the sunny caramel colour everywhere else into a creamier tan around the soft pink of his hole.

Liam wants to eat him alive, devour him.

He noses along the inside of one thigh, feeling the soft skin give under his touch. Louis’s not firm there like he is everywhere else, and Liam fucking loves it. There are light freckles scattered over his skin, and stretch marks- dark pink and shiny white lines that spider out from the joint of his thigh and pelvis. Liam traces them with his tongue, buries his face in and sucks a dark bruise just for Louis. He pushes his face in deeper, suckling at the inside of a cheek, nibbling there. Louis makes the sweetest noises, and Liam can feel his hands in his hair, gripping and tugging with no real purpose.

He goes for it, then. He presses his lips to Louis’s taint, and kisses, licks up it until he’s lapping gently at the velvety skin of his balls. He smells like the shower they took together earlier; like woodsy soap and vanilla, and the hour-old musky scent of boy. Louis squirms underneath him, and Liam can hear the soft sigh he lets out at the contact. He noses back down the tight skin of his perineum, licks, teases the tip of his tongue along Louis’s rim and Louis whines, “Liam...”

He grips the cheeks of Louis’s arse, pulls him apart, flicks his tongue over once, twice, and dives in. He hums against Louis, flattens his tongue and licks a lazy stipe over him; feels the way he’s twitching for it already, and he’s only just begun. He does it messy and slow because that’s what makes Louis really get into it. He feels Louis’s back arch off the table and hears the slap of his palms against the wood, his wanton groans, and his cock starts to strain against his pants.

He points his tongue in and teases Louis’s hole a bit, just soft stabs, swirling it around the rim. He can see Louis’s fingers curl around the edge of the table and he shoves himself down and yeah, yeah, that’s what Liam’s been waiting for. He pushes his tongue into Louis’s wet arsehole, past the tight ring of muscle, tongue teasing in and out, loosening him up until Louis’s rocking, riding down on his mouth. He grips Louis’s thick hips and shoves his face in, tongue fucking him like he’s been wordlessly asking for.

Liam’s hard, so hard, aching, leaking. He always is when he’s eating Louis out, because it’s the hottest fucking thing, the noises he makes and the way he needs it. The way he’s breathless and desperate for penetration. The way, like now, he has a hand fisted in Liam’s hair, pulling him closer as he sucks at his rim and licks him open. He thinks he could spend hours with his face buried in Louis’s arse if it meant this.

Louis’s thighs are quivering under Liam’s tight grip, breath coming in loud gasps, and faintly Liam can hear the soft pull of skin-on-skin. He reaches up and knocks Louis’s hand away from his cock; wraps his own around and squeezes once and Louis comes. Fuck, he comes so hard that his whole body jerks, back arched up like something’s pulling at him from his middle, and when Liam raises his head to look up Louis’s body, his head’s thrown back, mouth open wide in a guttural groan, skin all flushed pink, hands fisted in the shirt all rucked up under his chest, and the other still in the longest part of Liam’s hair. His breath is stuttery, forced out in little huffs with the contractions in his stomach. He raises his head for just a moment, eyes meeting Liam’s, and oh. Oh.

 

They’re wet, a little red, and his eyelashes are sticking together. There are little tear tracks running from the corners down over his temples, and his cheeks are splotchy, and his lips are bitten red. His head thumps back against the table, eyes blinking closed, and Liam stands, and noses at Louis’s belly where it’s soft, right under his bellybutton, where the come is cooling in a little pool. He kisses just under them hem of Louis’s shirt, where it’s all rucked up just under his chest, and then leans over him and kisses his damp neck, his jaw.

“Alright, angel?” he asks softly, kissing the hair at his temple that’s wet from sweat and tears. Louis turns his face into Liam’s neck, warm but for the tip of his little nose, and Liam can feel the smile against his shoulder when Louis nods.

“Just feels good,” he whispers, “overwhelming,” and Liam nods. He knows it’s almost too much sometimes (Louis’s so sensitive, it never ceases to amaze him) He kisses the salty tears away from Louis’s ear.

Louis shifts under him, a hand coming up to card through the top of his hair where it’s getting too long, starting to curl, and Liam thinks maybe that’s that and they’re done for now (he doesn’t mind, it’s not like Louis doesn’t blow him for the hell of it every chance that he gets) but then there are warm fingers slipping under the waist of his boxers, Louis’s hot palm pressing over his cock and rubbing in slow strokes.

Liam exhales heavily, hot against Louis’s neck, and turns his face until their lips meet again. Louis’s hand is slipping lower, cupping his balls, letting the head of Liam’s dick press into his forearm as he squeezes because he knows that Liam loves that; loves the teasing. His fingers wrap around the base of Liam’s cock, grip, stroke in time with Louis’s lips moving against his. It’s a little dry, but Louis’s skin is so soft, and Liam is leaking enough that precome smears over his cock with each upstroke, slicks it up better.

He bucks his hips a little, thrusting up into the tight grip of Louis’s hand as louis’s tongue pushes into his mouth, and he feels his legs wrap securely around his waist.

“Want it. You,” Louis breathes out against Liam’s lips. “C’mon, I’m ready,” he begs, voice going hoarse at the end, and Liam loves that; loves Louis, desperate.

He nods, reaches down to shove his boxers down his hips and they pool around his feet. He kicks them away, leaning back over Louis, mouthing at his chest. He rubs a hand through the tacky come still pooled on Louis’s belly, smears it into bronzed skin, and reaches up to press two fingers sticky with it between Louis’s lips.

“Suck,” he instructs, “get ‘em wet,” and Louis does. He wraps his pink lips around them and sucks them, curls his fingers around Liam’s wrist to hold it in place as he bobs his head, swirls his tongue and pushes it between them, coats them in spit. He looks fucking obscene doing it. He keeps at it for a bit, eyes even on Liam’s, and then pulls off with a pop. Liam’s eyes are caught between the slickness of Louis’s mouth, and the shiny string of spit that connects it to his fingers. He shakes his head and meets Louis’s eyes again as he blows the breath he was holding out though puffed-up cheeks. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

 

Louis just grins at him.

 

Liam lowers his hand back down between louis’s thighs, fingers finding his hole again and teasing around it, dipping back inside.

Louis gasps, rolls his hips down, tips his head back against the table again.

 

“Yeah, yeah…” he whines. He must be so sensitive, Liam thinks, and he’s so fucking tight, is the thing. It’s like no matter how long Liam spends licking him open, fingering him and tongue fucking him, he’s still clenching tight, muscles spasming around Liam’s fingers, gripping him.

He pulls out a little, presses back in, pulls out, pushes a second finger in and maybe it’s a little too dry but Louis fucking moans and grips Liam’s forearm and rocks into it. Liam thinks he might die. There’s nothing that gets him hot like being reminded of how responsive Louis is, especially with something in his arse.

“Yeah?” he asks, pressing his free hand against a thigh, pushing it out wider, up higher, and fucking his fingers in deeper.

“Oh yeah,” Louis breathes, nodding frantically. “Another. Please, just. Don’t…” his hand feels around on the table by his side, and then he’s holding one of the little packs of lube up at Liam. “Slick me up better. One more, Li, please, please,” and it’s all so desperate that Liam just obliges.

“Yeah, Lou,” he agrees, “whatever you need.” He takes the packet from Louis, bites the edge off the foil, squeezes some out over the two fingers that he already has crooked inside of Louis, and adds a third.

Everything smells like coconut and sex, and Louis, fuck, because he’s still all over Liam’s face, on his lips and his fingers, still in his beard. Liam shudders a little, arousal shooting low down through his stomach, making his dick jump. Louis would see it, if he could see anything, but he’s fucking lost all sense of control. He’s riding down against Liam’s fingers, one hand still clutching at Liam’s bicep, the other on his own chest, thumb flicking over his nipple. Liam’s mouth is watering. He’s fucking his fingers in and out of Louis fast, hard, and Louis is whining and the lube is squelching and Liam has to drop a hand to squeeze the base of his dick for a little relief.

“C’mon, come- Liam, come on,” he begs, breathless, eyes opening up and staring straight into Liam’s, and yeah. Okay.

Liam bites open another pouch, withdrawing his fingers with the loudest, filthiest slick noise. He squeezes lube out over his cock, gets himself good and wet, eyes squeezed shut at the sensation of his hand around himself. He’s lines himself up and Louis hooks an ankle around him, pulling him closer and he pushes in slow and steady, at least until Louis jerks his foot up under Liam’s thigh and pulls him in, bottoming him out and making them both groan loud and long.

“Oh, shit,” Louis gasps, tipping his head back, fingers searching for purchase on thin air. “Always forget how thick you are. Oh, shit.”

 

Oh shit, yeah. Liam couldn’t agree more. He laughs a little, breathlessly. He is thick, he’s big, he knows, it isn’t just lip service. 

He’s still for a moment, waiting for Louis to adjust to the stretch a bit (he doesn’t mind the sting, Liam knows, likes it a bit even, but he isn’t into pain). They’re quiet, nothing but the sound of both of them panting until Louis stirs his hips a bit, hums softly, nods, and Liam pulls out, pushes back in.

“Oh,” louis breathes out, eyelashes fluttering, fingers flexing against his chest, “yeah…”

Oh, Liam thinks, yeah. Louis is hot, slick, surrounding him, pulling him in. He does that again, just the same way, then again, again, faster, and watches Louis go crazy. He plants a hand next to Louis’s hip on the table, leaning up between his spread legs, and rolls his hips in quicker with each thrust. Louis just takes it, legs loose around Liam’s hips, letting himself be jostled up the table with each push and pull, breaths coming shorter, heavier. His eyes squeeze closed a bit, eyebrows furrowing, lips parting in a silent moan, and he’s so fucking lovely that it makes Liam’s chest ache a little.

“Beautiful,” Liam whispers, swivelling his hips a little, hand caressing just so up Louis side, and it’s apparently the right thing to do because Louis cries out a little, reaches for Liam, cups a hand over his cheek and tips his head back against the wood under him again.

Liam drops his head and kisses along Louis’s throat, licks over his bobbing adam’s apple, sucks a bruise into the hollow of his sharp little collarbones. Louis is gasping underneath him, rolling his hips up to meet Liam’s, pushing against each thrust. Liam catches himself gasping too, fucking in long, hard strokes, giving it to Louis so good. Louis’s giving it back just as well though, using his whole body. He’s good at everything he does really, but he’s best at this, at driving Liam crazy, at making him feel this good.

Louis’s hand clutches at Liam’s shirt, tugging first and then pushing it up so their stomachs press together. Liam takes the hint; reaches over his head and tugs the shirt off. He can feel Louis’s fingers go right to his chest, touching, feeling the muscles there, rubbing over Liam’s chest hair. Liam leans down and licks over one of Louis’s nipples, the one that’s all red and hard from Louis rubbing it, pulling at it. He can feel Louis shudder under him, feel his thighs flex around him, feel his muscles jumping when he swirls his tongue around the hard little nub.

Louis whines low in his throat and writhes, and Liam smirks, nips, and gives him a couple of quick, hard thrusts to make him gasp, “Oh, oh,” and “Fuck!” Louis’s nipples are so fucking sensitive, Liam knows. He fucking loves it.

He pinches it between his teeth, gentle and careful, and flicks it up and down with the tip of his tongue, over and over until Louis’s breath is short and forced, hips jerking, and he’s whining, “Li-ah! Liam, I- oh, god, I’m. stopstop…” And that’s… yeah. He stops.

He leans back up a little, hands sliding up Louis’s thighs, gripping them tight, and manhandles him back to the edge of the table from where he’s slid up. He thinks for a moment, considering, and then stuffs his balled-up shirt up under Louis’s hips, raising them up a bit for a different angle. He holds his thighs wide, taking him by the delicate dip of his waist, and starts to fuck him again in earnest, deeper and harder.

Louis keens in his throat, breath caught, and that’s the telltale sign that Liam’s found what he’s looking for.

 

“Fuck,” Louis whines, “Oh. Harder, Li, shit, fuck me harder...”

 

So he does. It spurs Liam on, and he redoubles his efforts for it, pounding Louis into the table like he wants, making him arch and stretch and moan and reach for something to hold onto, something to grip. The chair in the corner knocks obnoxiously, thumping up against the wall with each one of Liam’s unyielding thrusts, and Liam’s half waiting for Louis’s sweet-little-old-lady neighbor to come knock on the door, see if they’re okay. (He spares a second to chuckle at the thought of the look on her face if she could see just how okay they are.)

“Is that it, Lou? Right there?” Liam taunts, breathless, and Louis looks up at him, fucking wrecked, fingers clutching at the table over his head, sweat on his forehead and eyes rolling back, and he nods.

“Uh-huh, oh, don’t stop,” he begs, “don’tyoufuckingdare stop, shit, fuck, Liam, ohh…”

Liam wouldn’t fucking dream of it. He holds Louis’s legs apart by his knees and watches where his cock disappears over and over, Louis’s body taking it, swallowing it again and again. He’s all stretched open, all pink and a little swollen and so fucking wet. Louis’s soft thighs jiggle a little with each push of Liam’s hips, and fuck. Fuck. Liam almost loses it right there.

 

(That wasn’t even a thing he knew about himself, until he first fucked Louis.)

 

Liam’s thrusts come quicker, sharper. His spine is tingling, stomach clenching, toes curling against the cheap linoleum floor. There’s sweat rolling down his back, beading on his forehead and his temples, even the backs of his thighs. He knows it’s close, right there, but he’s determined to watch Louis come apart before he’ll let himself.

And he does, slow and fucking gorgeous, as always. It takes a few more dirty thrusts, Liam pinning his hips right up against Louis’s and fucking him just right, and Louis’s begging, “oh god, oh god, right there Liam, I’m coming, please,” quick and breathless. It’s the fucking hottest thing Liam’s ever heard. Ever. It always is. A moment later, Louis is clenching around him like a vice, so fucking tight that Liam gasps. Louis’s sharp little nails scrape at the table, leaving behind little white claw marks in the grain. His body shudders and he doesn’t even make any noise other than the little gasp of air that punches out of his lungs as he comes all over himself again, without even being touched this time.

Liam fucks into Louis again, again, slamming into him on the third stroke, and Louis all but screams. His fingers dig into Liam’s shoulders when his hips finally stutter and he comes inside of Louis, hard, and white hot. It knocks the air right out of him, leaves him lightheaded, holding himself up over Louis, gasping for air as he spills inside of him.

Liam drops his head into the crook of Louis’s shoulder, breathing him in. He’s so soft and warm, familiar and sweet smelling and it washes over Liam thickly, he thinks he’s in love. He knows he’s in love with Louis. He feels like it wouldn’t come across genuinely, if it spilled out right now, though.

Liam feels Louis’s hands smooth through his hair, over his sweaty back. He sighs softly, content, and then shifts slightly and makes an uncomfortable little noise.

Liam kisses the side of Louis’s head and reaches down, pulls out carefully with his fingers pressed to Louis’s rim to help with the discomfort. It’s messy and strange, Liam thinks, no matter how many times they do this. He pets his fingers over Louis’s stretched open hole for a moment, feeling the wetness there and making him gasp softly before he’s squawking at him and batting his hand away.

“Stop, stop,” Louis breathes, all sleepy and fond. His cheeks are flushed the softest pink, and his eyelashes are heavy.

“You’re amazing,” Liam whispers, stroking his fingers feather soft in the same place. Louis shudders and his legs try to press together. He laughs softly when he remembers that they can’t.

“I’m not,” he says softly, a bit belatedly. “I’m filthy, and if I get up, I’m going to leak all over the table…” he sighs, frowning up at Liam.

Liam chuckles a little at that, takes Louis’s hands, and helps him sit up carefully.

 

“Worth it, though. Yeah?”

Louis grins at him, easily.

 

“Always, Yeah. I’m gonna...”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, backing up just a little bit. “Go shower, love” he whispers, hands smoothing up louis’s sides, tugging his dirty shirt up and pulling it off. “I’ll clean up down here.”

 

He wipes gently at the cold come on Louis’s tummy, and then carefully from between his thighs. “I’ll fix you a plate and bring it to bed, if you like?”

 

Sometimes, Liam doesn’t even need anyone to point out how well he’s wrapped around Louis’s little finger.

Louis smiles at him, one of those little soft ones that he does when he doesn’t know what to say.

 

“You’re the best,” he whispers back. He cups his hands over Liam’s stubbly cheeks, and gets on his tip-toes to kiss him.

Liam smiles as Louis turns to go, leaning back against the table. He snaps Louis’s bum playfully with the shirt and Louis eeps, grabs it, wrestles it away from Liam and takes it with him as he backs down the hallway.

 

Yeah, Liam thinks as he turns to switch the timer off right as it starts to beep, he’s definitely in love.


End file.
